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“Hang on there.” The sheriff snapped his fingers at the deputy just emerging from his own squad car. “Mancuso, check the scene. No one goes in until we clear the building.”
Bridger pulled Jane a few steps farther back from the entrance. Fair enough. Now wasn’t the time to explain that Tai’s equipment was sensitive enough to track a mouse. No harm in letting the man take charge of the scene.
He stood next to Jane, shoulder to shoulder, while the deputy unholstered his service revolver and slipped around the back. By the time he completed his circuit of the premises, Jane was shivering.
Bridger aimed his key fob at the Jeep. The engine roared to life. He pressed the button to start the heater. “Why don’t you wait in the car?”
She shook her head, her gaze on the deputy who was peering inside through the jagged opening in the window. Glass crunched beneath his boots. He pulled on a latex glove and leaned inside, plucking something off the shelf that ran the length of the window.
He strode back to the sheriff and presented a paper-wrapped rock, twice the size of his palm. Once Bridger and the sheriff had snapped a couple photos of it, he untied the twine and peeled off the wrinkled paper.
Words were scrawled across the face in thick black marker.
Jane Reilly—Iknow what you do with the pastor. You’re an adulteress. An abomination to the Lord.
You should have repented. Now it’s too late.
Jane shuddered.A small sound escaped her before her teeth started to chatter. Bridger pulled her close, hugging her hard against him.
No way this evil would touch her. No. Way.
Except it already had.
26
“She’s fine,”Tai said for the tenth time since he and Bridger had gotten their waffles at the Red Dog Saloon.
But what if she wasn’t?
Bridger swirled the pat of butter into the syrup dripping off the top of his short stack. When he suggested breakfast, she’d declined, wanting to stay back and clean up the store. The sheriff had left three deputies with her, and he and Tai were watching the front. His friend was right. She was fine.
For now.
Tai waved a fork in his face. Golden strands of syrup glinted in the morning sun. “Hellooooo. Earth to Captain North. Let the woman be. She’s f-i-n-e.”
This time, Bridger didn’t look away from the window. “I know.”
Tai rolled his eyes and sank his fork into the pile of hot cakes in front of him. “Her store got vandalized and she’s been threatened by a loony toon. She needs a minute.”
He forced himself to shrug. “Sure.”
They ate in silence, watching the early morning fishermen drive past towing aluminum boats bristling with poles. Despite the dry desert air, the ground was tinted white with frost that melted instantly in the weak sunlight, leaving the road edged with the outlines of low-growing sagebrush.
Bridger liked the high desert. He’d forgotten how much. The stark beauty appealed to something deep inside him. Warmer climes offered too many ways to conceal things, but out here, there was nowhere to hide. No fog. No foliage. No pretense.
Things that grew here had to stand on their own.
Finally defeated by the outrageous size of his pancakes, Tai pushed away his plate and leaned his elbows on the Formica. “What if the sheriff can’t hold Peckham in custody? We need a plan.”
And Bridger needed to assure himself that Peckham had been working alone. That was the most likely scenario, but with Jane’s life on the line, he wouldn’t settle for anything less than total certainty.
Tai’s gaze drifted over Bridger’s shoulder. He threw down his napkin. “We got incoming.”
The vinyl seat squeaked as Bridger turned to see Pastor Zack stalking stiffly toward him, Randall Dressler following close behind.
Tai waved. “Hey, Preach, what’s up?”
Tai’s lazy delivery might fool the pastor, but Bridger didn’t miss the way his friend got his hand in position to grab the gun concealed at his side.
